From Hot to Cold
by Emilee Crumby
Summary: Dean's got a bad cold. Sam tries to get him to rest. Castiel helps. sick!Dean. rating for innuendo
1. Chapter 1

Season 4, Pre-Apocalypse and before stuff gets too serious.

Rated for some innuendo and, I think, language.

This is pretty much for everyone who ever wrote a sickfic about Dean or Sam. You know who you are. You guys literally got me into the show in the first place.

********

"How close are you to Tampa?"

Sam smiled and pressed his palm to his other ear, straining to hear the crackling voice over the phone. "Don't I get a hello?"

"Hello, how's the weather, how 'bout them Yankees, how close are you to Tampa?"

"Well Bobby, we just passed Denver so… pretty far. What's in Tampa?" Sam leaned against the hood of the Impala. He rested an elbow along the windshield and used the other hand to rub boyishly at the back of his neck. Behind him, a few yards back at the gas station's convenient store, Dean struck a similar pose while chatting up the leggy blonde who was scanning his purchases.

"Vampire coven. Close to half a dozen victims already. Damn, I'm sick of vampires."

"Well, if you're willing to wait a couple of days I think we can get there by Wednesday."

"Naw, don't worry about it. There's hunters around here'll help me out. I'll be fine. How're you boys doin'? Dean adjustin' alright?"

"He's still glad to be out of Hell if that's what you mean," Sam watched his brother exit the shop and cock his head to watch the follow the woman entering behind him. "I'm a little worried he's pushing himself too hard, though. I swear we just go from hunt to hunt without a second to breathe these days."

"Boy's hurtin', that's for sure," the gruffness of Bobby's voice masked his underlying pity.

"Exactly. I don't think he's even sleeping much anymore. He's even getting sick from all of it."

"Do I need to be concerned?"

"No, he's coming down with something, all right, but probably just a cold." Sam lowered his voice as Dean got closer. "If anything, you should be concerned about me. I've got to try to convince him to take it easy for a few days. I'd almost rather trade you for the vampires."

"And leave me with a sick Dean?" Bobby laughed. "No thanks. I'll stay with the coven."

"Get your monster elbows of my Baby," Dean bellowed as he walked up to the car.

"Well, I'll talk to you later, Bobby," Sam said loudly. He righted himself as Dean surveyed the hood for dents. Satisfied, he pointed a reprimanding finger at his brother before opening the driver's side door and sliding in.

"Take care Sam. And tell Dean I hope he feels better."

"Yeah, thanks."

Sam dropped the phone into his pocket and pulled himself into the passenger's seat. The car was silent and he took the moment to glance at his brother. Dean's eyes were glazed over and he was frozen in place, gaze fixed distantly at a streetlight.

"You okay man?"

The response was a quick breath hitching and a powerful, "Hye-chew!" Dean sighed loudly and grinned before turning the key and starting the engine.

"Bless you," said Sam, carefully eyeing his brother.

The formality was ignored. Dean asked, "So what did Bobby say? Does he have a case for us?"

"Nothing," Sam lied. "He was just checking in. Says things have been pretty slow lately."

"Well I don't like the sound of that. That usually means something big is coming." Dean's response was ended with a short, clipped cough.

"I don't know about that," Sam shrugged. "I say we just enjoy the peace while we got it."

"Sammy, part of being a good hunter is anticipating…" Dean's words trailed off. The car, almost an extension of the man, slowed as Dean's breath hitched. Just as his eyes were brimming with tears his face was reanimated and he scowled.

"Dammit," he muttered. "Lost it."

Sam smiled sympathetically. "I hate that."

Dean started to respond but was pitched forward with a sudden, exploding sneeze.

"Hahchew!"

This time Sam skipped the blessing and popped open the glove compartment. He rummaged for a moment before pulling out a couple of folded, fast food napkins. He passed them to his brother who wordlessly plucked one from the top of the stack and rubbed it under his nose.

"You getting sick?" Sam tried to sound nonchalant.

"I'm fine."

"We could take a couple days off, you know. Hole up in a little motel, watch daytime television, at least until you feel better."

"I feel fine. We're not taking any days off. Demons aren't taking days off, so neither are we."

Sam sighed and glanced out the window at the passing town.

"Can't we at least stop for dinner?" he asked.

Dean let a hand drift to his stomach and looked off at a blinking "OPEN" sign across the street.

"I could use some food," he agreed.

********

Fifteen minutes later the boys were seated across from each other at a little diner, decorated with painfully bright red and yellow. Sam perused the newspaper while Dean read the menu with vigor.

"See anything interesting?" he asked, his eyes not leaving the menu.

"Nothing much," Sam continued to lie as he folded the National News section into quarters and put it in his pocket. "Definitely nothing supernatural."

"Good evening boys, my name's Pearl, and I'll be serving you tonight." A tiny brunette with curls piled high on her head, smiled warmly at the pair.

"Hello Pearl," Dean's voice melted over the words like sugar and his smile matched. "My name's De- ah hyechew!"

"Aw, bless you sugar," the waitress pulled a stack of napkins from her apron and handed one over.

"Thank you," Dean said sweetly, blowing his nose noisily.

"Come one dude," complained Sam. "At the table?"

Dean ignored him, balling up the napkin and smiling again at the waitress. "Anyway, Pearl, I'm Dean, this is my sister Samantha."

Her laughter bubbled. "And what can I get you guys?"

Sam ordered the salad, giving Dean the opportunity to raise his eyebrows in mocking before ordering himself. His order was punctuated by two more, thundering sneezes, but Sam was at least relieved to see his appetite appeared strong, as he verbally debated whether his double cheeseburger required extra bacon.

Pearl dotted cheerfully at her pad of paper. Even her handwriting seemed bubbly.

"While they're making your burger, why don't I bring you out some chicken soup for that cold?" she offered amiably.

"Well aren't you sweet?" Dean flirted back. She trounced off while he observed her departure, biting his lip.

"So you _do_ have a cold?" Sam accused triumphantly after she was gone.

"I do not have a cold," Dean rubbed at his temples, trying to appear frustrated but not in actual pain.

"You let Pearl think you do."

Dean gave Sam his best "are-you-serious" look. "Dude, did you see the rack on that girl? I'd let her think I was Batman."

"Batman?" Now it was Sam's turn to give the look.

Dean smiled mischievously, "Some girls really like to pretend… costumes don't hurt."

Sam groaned but his admonishment was cut short as Dean burst into a tight-lipped coughing fit. He pressed the back of his knuckles to his mouth in an effort to stifle the sound. Sam wanted to roll his eyes. How damn stoic did he have to be?

When Dean had finished coughing he drank thirstily from his water and nearly choked when Pearl popped up behind him again.

"Here's your soup." She placed the steaming bowl in front of him and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.

"Thank you," Dean looked up at her with puppy dog eyes and tried to make his voice sound pitiful. It actually wasn't that hard. After the coughing fit there was a harsh edge and his voice dropped in and out of pitch when he spoke.

"So are you fellas staying in town for a little while?" She looked between the pair. Sam jumped at the opportunity when he saw it.

"We're thinking about it," he said with his own winning smile. "What's there to do around here?"

"Well," she said thoughtfully, not taking her eyes off of Dean. "I get off at eleven."

Dean's eyes widened and he nearly choked on his soup. The choking set off another fit of coughing and this time Pearl rubbed his back throughout, clucking sympathetically.

"You poor thing," she hummed. "That cold…you really just need a woman's touch."

"I sure do," he said, almost hungrily.

"Why don't you stop by my place tonight and I'll take care of you. I make this great tea… I'm actually a really good nurse."

"A nurse huh?" Dean's eyes went mischievously to his brother. "Like with a starched white dress and one of those hats?"

"If that's what you like," she purred before taking off, striding with the knowledge that her departure was being watched.

Dean leaned confidentially across the table and smirked. "Costumes Sammy, costumes."


	2. Chapter 2

A little after midnight, Sam was alone in the hotel room, browsing the Internet for cases to hide from Dean. Although he would have preferred his brother here, where he could be looked after, he was content with knowing he had bought another night off the road. Still he grimaced to thinking of the Pearl and Dean playing doctor. The images the two had planted in his head over dinner… well they would not soon be forgotten.

Only an hour had passed since he dropped Dean off at the address so he was surprised when his brother walked, shivering, into the hotel room.

"Damn it's freezing out there."

"Did you walk here?" Sam gasped. "I could have picked you up. Why didn't you call?"

"Figured you'd be asleep," Dean answered through clenched teeth as he held his hands over the room's heating unit.

"Oh yeah, so walking two miles in the Colorado winter is better than waking me up. That makes total sense."

Dean interrupted the lecture with two sneezes into his sleeve. When he finished he winced and swallowed.

"And you're sick to boot."

"I'm not sick." This statement was followed by Dean pinching his nose to hold back a strong, third sneeze. He winced again, "Ow."

"You shouldn't hold them back like that."

"Shut up."

"Bless you by the way."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean waved it off. He stalked across the room and started to bury himself under the covers of the second double bed. "Have you found a case for us?"

"Nothing," said Sam, discretely closing the a window on his laptop. "Looks like we can bum around here for a few more days. Maybe you can spend more time with Nurse Pearl. You're home early, by the way. I would have thought there'd be a few more rounds of General Hospital role play."

Dean grunted as he pulled the comforter to his chin. "Naw. I didn't seal the deal."

"No kidding. It seemed like a sure thing."

"She's a nice girl. I didn't…" Dean trailed off but this time, it seemed, he was trying to conceal something.

"You didn't what? Want to warm her stethescope, play with her tongue depressors? What?"

"Nothing." Dean started to cough again, snatching a tissue from beside the bed to press to his lips.

Realization dawned. "You didn't want to get her sick." Dean's face reddened and Sam knew he was right. "Well, Dean, isn't that chivalrous of you."

"Sammy this bed is the warmest I've been in the last two miles. Don't make me get out of it to kick your ass."

Sam chuckled to himself and turned back to his computer. Not five minutes later when he turned back, Dean was asleep, snoring lightly.

********

The next morning, Sam wasn't surprised to be awake before his brother. It seemed Dean had kicked the sheets off during the night and struggled to reclaim them later. Now he was twisted up in blankets with half his body still exposed. There was a faint pink blush to his cheeks and Sam wondered whether checking for a temperature would wake him.

He opted against the risk, instead pulling the comforter from his own bed and draping it over Dean before stealing off into the wintry morning.

When Sam came back an hour later, he bore coffee and cold medicine, curtesy of last night's gas station. He had thoughts of sneaking some Dayquil into Dean's cup but decided against it. There was enough deception in his life.

Sam struggled to balance the cups while opening the motel room door. He nearly dropped both in surprise when the door flung open on its own.

"Dude, it's albost 11. Whed were you pladding od waking be up?"

Dean's hair was matted and his cheeks were even redder. His voice had both the horrible accent of congestion and the hoarseness of a sore throat. Sam struggled to keep sympathy from his eyes.

"Relax Dean, what's the rush?"

Dean sniffed angrily before responding. "Demons, Sammy, remember them? Trying to bring on the apocalypse. Doesn't seem like the sort of thing a guy would forget."

He snatched a cup of coffee from where Sam had rested them on the coffee table, passing over the cold meds without a second glance.

"Dean, I'm telling you," Sam said calmly sipping from his own cup. "There's nothing out there. I can't find a single case."

"You just don't know where to look," Dean grumbled. He snatched his brother's computer from the foot of the bed and began to browse.

Determined to keep a relaxed attitude, Sam meandered back to his bed and began to flip channels on the TV. Appearing interested in the morning's talk shows, Sam kept his eye on Dean as he scanned the Internet. The man had donned a second sweatshirt this morning but chills still made his jawline tremble from time to time. He sniffled thickly, always turning his head away from Sam, still under the guise of health.

"Hyechew!" he sneezed strongly into the floor, his fingers still on the keyboard.

"Bless you," said Sam automatically.

"Thank you," Dean said hoarsely, wiping at a watery eye.

It was a suprising response and one, Sam knew, brought on by the fuzzy head of a fever. Maybe he should try pushing the Dayquil now.

Before he could make the suggestion, Dean's breath began to hitch. His head tilted back and he breathed slowly, waiting for the sneeze that tortured him.

"Hello."

The deep voice of Castiel appearing broke into the silence of room and Dean jerked back.

"Dammit Cas," he cursed, rubbing at his nose.

"You are not well." The angel stared keenly at his charge's face, tilting his head to one side with the hint of concern.

"I'm fine," Dean echoed himself.

Castiel continued to stare. "You are lying."

"Why are you here, Cas?" Dean's gaze was fixed and Sam rose to join them at the table.

The newcomer shook himself from reading Dean and replied. "There is demon activity that requires attention."

"Awesome," Dean clapped his hands together and smiled. Sam broke in.

"Is it a seal?"

Before responding, Castiel reoriented his body to fix his eyes on Sam.

"It is not a seal."

"Then we can't take it," Sam's voice was firm. Dean, already shoving things into his knapsack, stopped and turned around again.

"And why the hell not?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

Sam spoke only to the angel. "Dean's sick. We need a couple of days to rest."

"Is he in danger?" Castiel's eyes were now alight were worry.

"It's just a bad cold. Humans get them all the time," Sam said reassuringly. "Still it could turn into something worse if he doesn't take care of himself."

Castiel nodded with understanding before Dean broke in.

"Excuse me but are you my mother now?" His voice was a mixture of disgust and incredulity. "I'm completely able to hunt. We're not stepping aside because I have a sniffle."

Castiel looked back at the indignant man. "Your brother is right," he said serenely. "You need to rest."

"I don't need to rest. I need to hunt. I need to kill some damn demons. I need to stop the Apocalypse." With each sentence Dean's voice got louder and angrier. When he finished talking he glared at both of his companions, trying to hold on to the enraged visage.

He swore to himself when he realized his nose had other ideas. The tingling in his sinuses had crept back and now tormented him. It would not be assuaged. He broke from the stare down and launched into a thunderous sneeze, bending at the waist and cupping his nose and mouth between two hands.

"HA-thceeew!"

But he was not done. He didn't remove his hands until he had released three more sneezes, each louder than the last.

"HAA-chew! Hichew! Hihchew!!"

"God bless you," said Castiel solemnly. He took another step towards Dean who shook his head to try and clear the dizziness.

Castiel's eyes bored deeply into Dean's fevered ones. He nearly reached a comforting hand to the man's shoulder but recognized it would likely be an unwelcome gesture.

"You believe you deserve to be sick," Castiel's tone was almost questioning but his voice was steady and clear as he read into Dean's thoughts. "You do not think you have the right to rest while others are suffering. Whatever befalls you is only what you deserve."

Castiel stepped back for a moment as his eyes drained of concentration. When he spoke again, it was only his own thoughts.

"Dean, you are wrong. You have earned a rest. You have earned so much more than a day's rest. Circumstances being what they are, I'm afraid, that is all you will get. But be sure, you have earned at least that."

Sam watched silently from his chair. He hardly dared breathe as Castiel spoke. He was uncomfortable at being privy to his brother's innermost fears but, at the same time, his heart was wrenched with pity.

Dean's jaw quivered slightly as he stared the angel down. He did not respond for the longest moment.

Finally, still facing Castiel, he walked by and sat on the bed. He plucked the box of tissues from the table beside it and sat them into his lap. Then, Dean leaned back against the headboard, and began to flick through channels on the TV. Although his eyes were still bright with pain, he grinned tightly at his brother as if to say, "happy now?"

"Wow," whispered Sam, unnmoving behind the angel. "Maybe there are such things as miracles."


End file.
